Sticks and Stones
by SweetSinger2010
Summary: She'd confessed her affection to him before, accidentally. Pre-Rebels one-shot Kanera garbage.


A/N: This idea was conceived long before I saw "Jedi Night" and "Dume," so pardon me if it seems too on-the-nose, but I _swear_ I didn't write it with that intent. And I haven't seen the two newest eps yet, so I hope there's nothing in here that flies in the face of canon. If there is, sorry. I'll catch up very, very soon. Also…there's some questionable medical science. Sorry if you're someone who knows better.

* * *

Sticks and Stones

Hera's breath was coming in short, hard pants and her body had started to tremble. She leaned back against the bunk wall, supporting herself with her hands on the mattress. She tipped her face up toward the ceiling, hoping Kanan wouldn't see the pained expression on her face.

He did, of course.

"If you want me to stop," he said for the dozenth time, "I can."

She clenched her teeth. "No. Just keep going."

He sighed, aggrieved, and pulled the laces on her boot, trying to loosen them as much as possible. "Okay, but—" He'd been about to say _this is going to hurt_ , but her glare silenced him. He supported the back of her calf with one hand and gripped the heel of her boot with the other, easing it from side to side as he pulled it down off her foot. The pain was blinding and Hera made a sound that was stuck between a sob and an agonized moan.

"Please— _please_ hurry up," she gasped raggedly.

"Almost done." She didn't look, but she guessed that he probably had his lips pressed tight and thin. "You couldn't wait for—I don't know— _dry weather_ before you decided to go crawling around on the hull?"

"There was—something I needed—to check." It was taking all her effort to string words together in a coherent sequence.

"And what was that, exactly?"

"I don't know— _ohhh._ " Hera's words dissolved into a pained cry as Kanan finally, _finally_ got the blasted boot off. It was excruciating. She was gasping, crying, blinking dizzily. "Just give me a minute," she panted, "before you do the sock."

"I don't need to take the sock off to tell you that ankle is all kinds of broken, Hera," he said grimly. "Any longer and the swelling would have been too bad to get that boot off without cutting it."

"It _could_ be just a sprain." The argument was weak. She finally looked at him and this time, _he_ was the one glaring. "Okay, okay." She breathed in slowly through her nose, trying to slow her rapid heart rate. "Can you set it?"

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head when you fell?" He demanded. " _No, I can't set it._ Dislocate your shoulder next time—that, I can fix."

"So you can take the helm from me for six weeks?" Her lips felt thick and mumble-y. "No, thanks."

"Suit yourself—hey, you don't look good."

"I don't feel good." She was still breathing too hard and dizziness was starting to make her nauseous. Her head ached and she felt hot and flushed, but a cold sweat was making her shirt cling to her body uncomfortably. Her lekku felt far too heavy.

Without another word, Kanan supported her with one arm behind her knees and the other against her back, carrying her to the medbay and gently laying her down. He propped her bad ankle up on a couple of pillows and then put a cold-pack over it, which felt simultaneously wonderful and awful. She blinked and by the time she got her eyes back open, he'd slipped an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. He was leaning over her, amusement and concern mixed evenly in his gaze. "What are we doing?" She asked, words muffled.

" _You_ are going to stay there and rest while _I_ pilot us back to Capital City."

"Capital City," she repeated dumbly. He must have been thinking of taking her to a med-center. She shook her head on the pillow. "It's not that bad, honestly."

"You're in shock, honestly," he deadpanned. She furrowed her brows, frowning, and he sighed. "You need real medical treatment, Hera. End of story."

"I _hate_ med-centers," she said, aware she sounded whiny.

"And I'd hate for you to die because you went into shock after you broke your ankle and refused treatment. You hear how stupid that sounds, right?"

He turned on his heel before she could say anything else and she was left to just lie still and listen to the ship's engines and thrusters as he capably flew the _Ghost_ back to Capital City.

By the time they landed, Hera was dipping in and out of consciousness, only really aware of the horrible pain shooting up from her ankle and the crushing coldness that was making her body shake. Once Kanan carried her inside, the triage droid at the med-center gave her only one look before admitting her as a patient. She was treated first for shock and given oxygen, IV fluids, and a heated blanket as an M-D droid poked and prodded and scanned her ankle. She started coming back to herself in time to hear the droid pronounce the verdict: she _did_ have a mild concussion and an ankle broken in three places. It was going to require surgery, and the sooner the better.

As the droid left the room, Hera worked the oxygen mask up and over her lekku and threw it aside, looking woefully at Kanan. "I _hate_ this," she said. She picked fretfully at the collar of her hideous gray gown. "And how expensive is it going to be?"

"We made a little 'rainy day' stash after that last gig with Vizago, remember?" He reminded her, taking her hand. "Don't worry about that."

"I don't—" She looked away, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. "My mom," she explained thickly, "she didn't—it wasn't—right away."

He leaned forward, brows drawing together. "She didn't—die right away, you mean?"

She nodded. "She never regained consciousness after the—" She sucked in a breath. "I was with her in the med-center until—"

"Hey." Kanan stood, bent low over the bed, and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm right here with you, okay?" He pulled back just enough so that they could look at each other without going cross-eyed. Affection for him made her throat close up and she nodded, putting her hand to the back of his neck to draw him down for a quick kiss.

"Thank you." Carefully, so as not to jostle her ankle, he sat on the edge of her bunk. She tapped her fingers on his leg, nervous. "I've never had surgery before. They—they put you all the way out?"

"Yep," he said. "Like a light. You won't even know it."

At that moment, a nurse droid wheeled in, wielding a syringe. "A pre-operative sedative. We'll be taking you back now."

Hera swallowed a spike of panic as Kanan moved off the bed, and he smiled at her reassuringly. "I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

"You'd better be."

The droid administered the medication through the IV port in her hand, then activated the bed's repulsorlift, guiding it out of the room. As they took her to the operating theater, Hera started to feel warm and relaxed and drowsy. She was moved from the relative comfort of the hospital bed to the cold hardness of the operating table. The pain in her ankle seemed like only a minor annoyance now. A mask was placed over her nose and mouth and a mechanical voice asked her to breathe deeply and count back from ten; was she supposed to do that in Basic or in Ryl? As the room faded to black, she thought about Kanan and the way his eyes always shone when he teased her about something, and she idly wondered how long it would take for him to give her a hard time about this.

* * *

Kanan hadn't been overly worried about Hera's injury until they were halfway through getting her boot off and he realized she was going into shock from the pain. Her skin turned an unnaturally pale shade of green, glistening with a sheen of sweat, and she hadn't put up any kind of fuss when he said he'd be flying the _Ghost_ back to Capital City. He hated seeing her in distress, but he kept his own unease under tight control, knowing she was uneasy herself and probably scared.

The two hours she was in surgery were two of the longest of Kanan's life.

When the nurse droid brought Hera to the recovery room, she was still too pale, but Kanan was vastly relieved to hear that the surgery had gone well. She had a couple of plates and several screws bracing the bones in her ankle together now, and the M-D droid expressed its total optimism in Hera regaining full use and mobility of the joint with physical therapy and conscientious exercise, of course. But for the next few days, she'd need to keep it elevated and iced to help manage the pain; the droid handed him prescription tablets for that as well. Kanan wasn't looking forward to the task of keeping Hera down and resting, but he'd already figured out a way to rig up a space for her in the _Ghost's_ co-pilot's seat; keeping her out of the cockpit would have been a fight he didn't have the energy for.

About half an hour after the droid brought her into recovery, Hera started to stir, but she didn't open her eyes. Kanan watched her carefully. Her brows drew together and her forehead creased in a deep frown and her breathing accelerated, like she was about to cry.

"Hey," he said. He closed his hand over hers and rested the other on her forearm. "I'm here."

She squeezed his hand weakly in response. "Where'm I?" Her words were thick.

"Lothal—Capital City. You broke your ankle, remember?"

"Mm." She shifted, apparently remembering the ankle, and then whimpered in response to pain. "Hurts."

"Yeah, it's going to for a little while. Do you want to take something to—"

She shook her head, the motion slow. "My eyes're heavy," she said. Her voice sounded like her own, but her tone certainly didn't. He'd be surprised if she remembered any of this later. He used a thumb to gently smooth the crease between her eyes.

"That's okay," he assured her. "Just keep them closed."

"'Kay." She was still for several moments before she said, "Who told you I was here, Elias?"

Kanan just stared. Who in blazes was Elias? "It's me, Hera. I came with you."

"No, tha's'not right," she slurred. "Kanan came with me."

Kanan gave up. "Well, good," he said, placating her. "I'm glad you weren't alone."

"You'd like'm," she continued, as if she hadn't heard. "He's a mess but he's good t'me."

He felt a flush creeping up his neck, but he smiled. "Glad to hear it. I'd have words for anyone who wasn't."

"'M serious, Elias," she said, frowning. "I _care_ abouthim…the way we used t'talk about when we were kids, y'know? The settle down way."

Kanan went absolutely slack-jawed, not trusting what he was hearing. That was the closest thing to open affection he'd ever heard from her lips. He knew she cared for him, of course; she said it all the time, in thousand different ways, without ever opening her mouth. He'd hoped that someday they'd say—but this was wrong. Hera was talking to him, but she didn't _know_ she was talking to him, and even though she was talking _about_ him, he felt like he was intruding on something very private, and it pained him to think of how horrified she'd be if she knew. "You," he said unsteadily, "need to rest now."

She sighed, humming. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too." She nodded, but her face scrunched and she started breathing rapidly again. Kanan stroked her forehead. "Hera? What's the matter?"

"Feel sick," she managed.

"Here—hang on." He fumbled with the two packs of medication the droid had given him; one was for pain, and one was for nausea. He popped a tiny, white tablet out of the blister-package and nudged it against her lips. "Take this under your tongue. Let it dissolve. It's gonna make you sleepy."

She did as he told her and he watched, relieved, as her expression and her body relaxed into sleep. He stayed beside her the entire time she slept, mind reeling from the conversation they hadn't had.

* * *

 _Struggle—it was a struggle to open her eyes. She couldn't. She was alone. Was she alone? Where was Kanan? He'd said—_

 _Ah, there. Someone holding her hand, someone warm and familiar. That felt better. But that voice—whose?_

 _Elias?_

 _It sounded like him, kind of—like maybe the way he would have sounded at this age? Yes, that seemed approximately right._

 _But—Kanan?_

 _Elias would have liked Kanan. A lot. Would have given his blessing. Would have been glad to know she'd found someone to love._

 _Love—had she said that word before?_

 _No, but she'd given lots of thought to_ _ **always**_ _being with him, and that was pretty much the same thing._

 _Rest, he told her. Good idea. She felt bad. Really bad—sick._

 _A soothing hand on her forehead. Safe. A pill against her lips, then under her tongue. Not so sick anymore._

 _Sleep._

* * *

When Hera woke up for real, she felt dead-headed, but not so much that she couldn't feel the throbbing fire in her ankle and the terrible dryness in her mouth. She tried to push up to more of a sitting position, but Kanan was quick to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Easy there," he cautioned. He handed her a cup of water and she took it gratefully. Sipping slowly, she looked up at him and he smiled, but there was something tight around his eyes. "Welcome back."

"You say that like I was gone for days." Her eyes widened in sudden panic. " _Was_ I?"

"No," he said with a snort. "Just a few hours." He paused. "The droid said everything went well with your surgery. That ankle should be good to go in no time."

Hera was very skeptical of that. "No time?"

"More like six weeks," he admitted, "but, _hey_ , it's better than hobbling around for the rest of your life like you would have done if I hadn't been there."

"Would _not._ " She pretended to glare. "But…thanks."

He waved a hand dismissively. "How are you feeling?" He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes slightly narrowed like he was prepared to catch her in a lie. "You were pretty out of it before, and nauseous."

"I—" She stopped, surprised. "I was awake before?"

"Yeah." He watched her intently. "You don't remember?"

"I remember…I remember feeling so _tired_ , like I was drowning in it. That's pretty much it."

There was a slight pause. "Anesthesia's nasty stuff," he said by way of dismissing the topic. "You looked miserable. How about now?"

She hummed considering. "Less than miserable," she finally determined. "But still tired."

"Any pain?"

"Some." That was an understatement, but she didn't want to take anything, not when her mind still felt thick and hazy. "I'm okay."

He frowned at her, and she knew she was caught. "You're a terrible liar."

"And so are you," she deflected. "I can tell when something's on your mind, Kanan Jarrus. Spit it out." She was half-prepared for a string of good-natured, smart-mouthed jabs about this whole situation, but not for what came out of his mouth next.

"Hera…" The way he said her name, soft and hesitant, instantly put her on guard and she sat up a little straighter. "Who's Elias?"

She felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs and she sagged against the pillows propping her up. "Wh—Elias?" She shook her head, barely comprehending. It had been _years_ since she'd allowed herself to mourn or miss him. "He's—he _was_ —my favorite cousin. We were…close." She closed her eyes, remembering. "Inseparable, really. We told each other everything. We—we had our futures all mapped out. We were going to leave Ryloth together and cruise the stars, just me and him." She paused, opened her eyes, glanced at Kanan. "He died when he was fifteen. It was the same—" She cleared her throat and rushed to go on. "Same incident that killed my mother."

Kanan was silent; he took her hand and held firmly, understanding her need not to talk much about it. Hera was grateful. "Did I say something about him?" She asked at length, pensively. It bothered her to think that her subconscious mind was comfortable talking about things that her conscious mind shied away from. "When I was out of it, I mean?"

Kanan shook his head. "Not really. I mean, you said his name a couple of times. It was mumbling, mostly. Couldn't understand much."

She sighed, immeasurably relieved. "Oh." She closed her eyes again, fatigue settling on her like a thousand-pound weight. She began to doze off, distantly aware of Kanan shifting his chair closer to the bed so he could hold her hand comfortably. Her other hand was still holding the cup of water, and when Kanan gently took it from her grasp, it momentarily jerked her to a higher state of consciousness. "I think he would have liked you," she said sleepily. "Elias."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She opened her eyes just enough to see how his entire face was lit up, like she'd handed him a moon and suddenly she wondered whether she'd said more than he'd let on—but it didn't really matter. Her eyes slipped closed again. She murmured something in Ryl, a childhood chant her mind dredged up about sticks and stones and broken bones—she didn't understand it any more now than she did then. She was distantly aware of Kanan asking what she'd said, but she was too far gone to answer.

She fell asleep holding his hand, numb to the pain in her ankle and in her past.


End file.
